


Battle Cry

by supercalifragili



Series: Healings [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalifragili/pseuds/supercalifragili
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn’s an artist, he draws with his hands and eyes and Liam sees the beauty in the sketches, he sees the happiness and madness in the scribbles and sprays on the walls. He knows about the importance of expression and the feeling of relief that reels inside one’s body when they are able to finish a piece of art- he recognizes them after all this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Ti Voglio Bene is the song that inspired this, Tiziano Ferro still gets me. Ice cream gets me too, Ice cream is good. Oh, Battle Cry is great too, Angel is wonderful. David Ryan Harris is amazing. Wow I used so many songs, I’m sorry.

_“And you never let 'em kill you, you take everything they give you_

_And throw it right fuckin' at 'em and tell 'em it doesn't build you_

_And no it don't ever break you, and no it can't overtake you_

_Life's like a bed of roses, you take the thorns and you make do”_

_Battle Cry- Angel Haze ft. Sia_

 

Liam wakes up during the night, moon hiding behind heavy clouds. The cold of the sheets make him shudder, and he traces the shape of a body that’s not there anymore, the details in the way Zayn sits on the edge of the bed and starts thinking before standing and walking to somewhere Liam can’t find with his imagination.

Zayn’s an artist, he draws with his hands and eyes and Liam sees the beauty in the sketches, he sees the happiness and madness in the scribbles and sprays on the walls. He knows about the importance of expression and the feeling of relief that reels inside one’s body when they are able to finish a piece of art- he recognizes them after all this time.

Zayn draws with his mind a lot, and in the twist and turns of it he drew a place Liam’s trying to decipher; he sees it in unfinished sketches Zayn leaves on the floor of his room, splatters of blue and green and burgundy… Zayn never paints in burgundy. The drop covers the sketch paper and behind it Liam reads _how many of those things did you lock in that castle?_ And Liam follows it, _follows Zayn_ , he picks every sheet of paper and reads behind it and from _behind the shadow of smiles and cautious gestures_ to an _it’s that in the world there aren’t only good ones,_ Liam thinks Zayn is caving in… myriad of splatters of colours, drops of different shades hit Liam on his shoulders in dreams and nightmares.

There’s not much Zayn sees when he sits on the balcony with an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Liam finds him like this once a while. It’s a constant somehow, words get to him sometimes and Liam watches him while they wash off his body and he laughs wholeheartedly. Some other times words get to him and they stick like permanent markers on his skin, angry swipes of black on his chest, the boldness in markings that circle his legs and cover his mouth, leave scratches on his cheeks and bruises on his arms, _no,_ Zayn doesn’t hurt himself, Liam would never permit that, but Liam sees what Zayn reads, he hears the deep sigh in his voice and the huff when he switches off his mobile.

He calls him when the brows on Zayn’s face arch angrily for a second, a whisper and a hand gesture and Zayn smiles weakly, something practiced. They rest on the sofa and Zayn sits on his lap, curled around Liam, the cold tip of his nose rubbing on Liam’s neck, they stay like that while Liam plays lightly with Zayn’s grown hair, he tugs and scratches his scalp until Zayn’s breath evens out.

Liam looks at him when he lays him on the bed and Zayn’s forehead is mapped in wrinkles he still can’t smooth but kisses, his lips drawing a serene expression out on Zayn’s face. He watches him when he wakes up in the morning, there’s a timid smile when he sits down with Liam on the sofa and he lays his head on Liam’s shoulder, his hair falling gently on his eyes while he murmurs _Thanks for being here_ to which Liam would just answer by pressing small kisses on Zayn’s hair, shushing the _thanks_ \- Liam is glad he’s there.

Now, Zayn sits there on the floor of the balcony, legs drawn to his chest and watches the clouds. Liam picks him up, he takes the cigarette away from him and thanks him for not smoking it, Zayn shrugs, shoulders weak and flimsy against his chest and clutches at Liam’s shirt _I want to run away from this sometimes,_ he says. His voice wavers, a bit throaty a bit on the verge of tears but he holds on like he thinks he can.

Liam knows he doesn’t mean it, he knows Zayn is grateful for this, he sees it when in the midst of thousands of people Zayn sits on the ramp of the stage and just watches around him in contemplation _._

“Do you want to draw this?” he points to Zayn’s chest, heart beating through his fingertips.

Zayn bites his lips, presses a chaste kiss to Liam’s cheeks and whispers _Okay, but don’t leave._

Zayn still runs away, he closes the door to his room and stays there until dawn is upon them, the red and orange whirling in the sky. When he comes out in the kitchen, hair unruly and hands coated in paint, he smiles brightly and runs to wash his hands in the bathroom. Liam listens to the water and imagines the permanent marker dissolving at contact, he imagines the black and bold flushing off Zayn’s body and being sucked into the drain into the depths of dirty waters. Then he listens to the richness of Zayn’s voice singing

_I put up walls all around my heart,_

_Your love can help me tear it down_

_Now how I see that I don’t want to be,_

_Protected if that means that you're not here with me..._

When Zayn comes back in the kitchen, fresh and rested, he says he wants pancakes and shoulders Liam for the flour and baking powder. Liam just moves away and sits on the counter, he looks at Zayn’s back and contrary to the sleepless night Zayn looks more awake. Liam listens to the whistles and the humming that accompanies the radio hits, feet shuffling comically on the wooden floor.

They eat the pancakes, half of them are a little bit burnt because Liam had to kiss him; he pushed him on the granite countertop and made him sit on the cool material. There, he rested his hands on Zayn’s thighs and watched the brown and gold and green of his eyes gleaming of light, he watched Zayn’s tongue swiping teasingly at his lips. They laughed and Liam kissed him, holding his chin up, sweet and slow till Zayn’s legs were curling around Liam’s waist and pulled him in, urgently, his hands resting on Liam’s chest.

Obviously the pancakes got burnt, but at least Zayn is happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
